


They Might Be Your Wounds (But They're My Sutures)

by RedTeamShark



Series: American Beauty/American Psycho [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha!Pepper, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Faked character death, Familial Relationships, Gen, Multi, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Omega!May, beta!Rhodey, fantasy sexism, omega!Peter, omega!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: If you don’t help people when you have the means to, it makes you part of the problem.--Tony Stark doesn't have a problem with people who love him leaving him. Peter Parker doesn't have a problem with keeping his family safe. They can't fix each other's problems, but maybe they still have the means to help each other.(Or: Tony Stark uses International Dibs Protocol to adopt Peter Parker. Runs along with Part 2 before jumping onto the Part 3 train.)
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: American Beauty/American Psycho [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461979
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	1. We Are What We Are (But We Don't Have To Be)

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is story number 5 in the series, but part of it takes place earlier and also this is the one I have written, soooo... We'll fix the ordering soon, don't worry.
> 
> Alternating perspectives for Tony and Peter in upcoming chapters. This is the most PG and Gen story in the entire series so if you're here for the world of a/b/o as I write it and not for the sex stuff, this is a decent place to be really.

Words don’t always mean what he wants them to.

 _I am always with you_ , his mother says, leaning down to kiss his forehead before she leaves him at school for the first time. He learns this lesson fast, learns early on that words don’t always mean what he wants them to.

 _I am always with you._ It’s the last thing she says to him every time they leave each other. Boarding school, prep school, college. When Howard and Maria Stark leave for their Christmas vacation, she says _I am always with you_ and leans up to kiss his forehead and it’s the last memory Tony Stark has of his mother.

He hears those words, sometimes, in his dreams.

 _I am always with you_ should mean _I will never leave you_ , but it doesn’t.

There are other phrases that he assigns new meaning to. Other words that don’t mean what the world says they should, change to mean what Tony Stark wants them to.

 _Omega_ doesn’t mean he has to be controlled. As soon as he graduates from MIT at the tender age of 21 and steps onto the board of Stark Industries, he settles that question. No Alpha is going to step into his life and tell him what to do. The board members will either get with the times or be left in the past, he doesn’t have the patience for old fashioned notions. Not when he has a thousand ideas spinning in his head at any given time.

He goes through six personal assistants before Pepper Potts gets sent up from HR. Her resume is stellar, her past employers don’t just rave about her, they practically beg Tony to tell her to go back to working for them. She meets his gaze with the calm measure of an equal and slides a file across the desk to him.

“I don’t like to be handed things, Miss Potts.”

“That’s why I’ve placed it on the desk. You can pick it up at your leisure, Mr. Stark. That,” she tips her head to the file, “is a comprehensive comparison chart of the salary I expect to be paid for this job. Taking into account my experience, the average of the field, and the tasks required of me, I think you’ll find the number to be much more fair than what your hiring manager quoted me.”

“Double it and send a letter down to Pearson from HR that he’s fired.”

She smiles, calm and self-assured, and his heart cracks a little at the edges. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That will be all, Miss Potts. Welcome to Stark Industries.”

He doesn’t need an Alpha to control his life because he’s an Omega. But god damn, he needs Pepper Potts to control his life because he’s Tony Stark.

He meets someone else he needs in his life a few weeks later. James Rhodes, up and coming Air Force Lieutenant, is waiting for him in his office. Tony gives the man a slow, assessing up-and-down, closing the door behind him. Tall, handsome, eyes that don’t waver even under scrutiny. A Beta with the disposition of an Alpha. “Who ordered me a stripper when it’s not even my birthday? I like the authenticity, but I can’t say that airmen really are my kink. I’d make an exception for you, though.”

“I’m not a stripper.” The man offers a short handshake as Tony crosses the room, his gaze surprisingly steady. “Second Lieutenant James Rhodes, I’m the new liaison for the Department of Defense contracts.”

“What happened to the last guy? Matthews… Milker… Masters?”

“Colonel Masterson retired. You sent him a jam basket at his retirement party. His wife raved about your generosity.” Rhodes quirks one eyebrow and Tony grins. A sense of humor in a military man? He likes that.

“So, Second Lieutenant James Rhodes, what does the DoD want with me today?”

Pepper must have briefed this guy and Tony makes a mental note to thank her for that. Rhodes nods to a stack of files already on his desk. “There’s a new missile guidance system that could use a fresh pair of eyes and a few existing contracts that need some signatures after changes were made. Miss Potts already read them over--” bless Pepper and her perfect-for-Tony brain “--and marked everywhere your signature is needed.”

He leans forward at the desk, his eyebrows raising suggestively. “And what does Second Lieutenant James Rhodes want with me tonight?”

Not even a flinch. Tony feels something besides flirtation swell in his chest. “Well, for starters, you can call me Rhodey. It’s shorter.”

He thought he knew what _love_ meant. _Love_ was a hollow promise, a word said between people who wanted to pretend to understand each other. It was a word said to him based not on who he was, but on what he could do. Money, status, possessions, all of that was how people defined _love_ and while he didn’t mind throwing his reputation around in exchange for temporary adoration, Tony knew better than to call it _love_ like so many of his bed partners did.

He realizes he’s wrong in the desert, after uncountable days of hell, after the first suit of armor powered by the reactor in his chest. He falls into Rhodey’s arms and he knows that _love_ is a selfish monster that will eat a person whole with their desire for skin-to-skin contact with another.

Or maybe that’s just him.

 _Love_ , he decides after he stabilizes the reactor, is letting someone see him at his most vulnerable and knowing they won’t flinch. Pepper has seen him in all sorts of messes, but her hands are steady when she helps him take out the old reactor and put in the new. He doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t want anyone else.

He doesn’t tell her this, but something in her eyes says that she knows.

 _Love_ is what he has for them, his Alpha and his Beta and Tony throws himself whole-heartedly into being their Omega. Even after the tests that show he can’t have kids. Even after everything that he fucks up, and breaks, and tries to sacrifice for them, he knows he can come home to Pepper and Rhodey and be _loved_. He knows that when they say they are always with him, they mean they will never leave him.

So why are the bond marks on his neck faded to almost nothing?


	2. (Sand In The) Bottom Half Of The Hourglass

He knows that he can talk about anything with his aunt. She’s been great for advice about conflicts with teachers; a shoulder to lean on when he’s felt alone and isolated and so different from everyone else; she knows when to hold him, or make a joke, or buy a gallon of ice cream and put on a kid’s movie. Aunt May is the perfect person to go to with his problems.

That does not make his current situation any less awkward.

“Aunt May I really--”

“Peter,” she levels him with a look, her voice disallowing further protests. “School health classes only teach so much. There’s a lot you have to know about being an Omega that they don’t get into. It’s even worse in some places, but they definitely skim the surface and it’s important to know what to expect.”

He squirms under her stare, his cheeks miserably warm. Sure, he knows that she’s an Omega, he knows that she takes suppressors, and he knows that he’s due to start presenting soon. He’s been waiting for the moment since middle school, when the first person in his class presented (an Alpha, Alphas typically present their phenotype earliest) and everyone had suddenly become hyperaware of designations, every conversation circling around who would present as what and when and how it would change the all-important relationship dynamics of teenagers.

He’d made it through middle school without presenting, been accepted to Midtown and turned 14 and almost everyone he knows has presented already, and here he is, still… unaffected. Unchanged.

Which means that he’s almost guaranteed to be an Omega, a late blooming Omega and now his aunt is trying to explain that to him and really, _really_ , Peter has an internet connection and a mind that wanders at the best of times, he _knows_ what to expect. Sort of.

He also really doesn’t want to hear his aunt say ‘slick’ or ‘heat’ or ‘knot’ or any of the other things he’s read in online medical articles or heard in porn he’ll never admit to looking at.

“I looked it up online,” he blurts out as soon as she says ‘your first heat,’ trying to cut off the conversation before it can start. He takes a breath, speaking again, trying to keep his words from rushing. “After--after my friends started presenting, and I still wasn’t. I looked into it. I know, I’m probably an Omega. And I know that presenting late makes me more…” _potent_ isn’t the right word, gets stuck in the back of his throat when he even tries to say it. Peter gestures helplessly.

“It makes it harder for you to get the proper dose of suppressors,” May offers, and he’s grateful for the words she puts to it. “Your mom was the same way. Seems to run in the family.” They don’t talk about his parents a lot. Not as much as he wants to. Not as much as he maybe should. “Until you present no doctor is going to prescribe to you, and I’m worried that you’ll present, well… Dramatically.”

Had he thought this conversation was any less awkward for her? Peter chances a glance up, sees his aunt’s flushed cheeks and averted eyes. He nods silently, reaching over and taking her hand. He doesn’t have to make this any harder on her. “So… what should I look for?”

* * *

The thing about it is that no matter what he’s read online, no matter what awkward conversations he’s had with his aunt, the _experience_ is still so different from what he expects.

It starts after a school field trip. Sitting next to Ned on the bus as they go back to the school building, he’s suddenly aware of how… _unique_ his friend smells. Ned’s a Beta, middle-of-the-road, nonthreatening, easygoing. Peter subtly leans closer, inhaling deeply. “Did you get new shampoo?”

“Dude that’s weird.” Still, Ned grins and shakes his head and what wafts off him is--

Sharper, to his left, across the aisle on the bus where Liz sits next to one of her friends. Both Alphas and he’s suddenly _too_ aware of them, of their laughter, of the snap of Liz’s gum in her mouth when she blows a hot pink bubble. A shiver races up his spine, his eyes tracking each of the wisps of bubblegum that drift down. His skin feels too tight, too hot. Peter shoves his backpack to the floor, frantically tugging his sweater up and over his head.

“Is it warm in here? It’s warm in here, right?” Peter can feel himself flushing, can feel his blood rushing in his veins.

“Peter?” Mr. Banstore stands up from the front of the bus, holding onto seats as he walks back. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s--yeah, I’m just really warm?” Is he getting sick? He must be getting sick. He squirms in his seat, flinching back when his teacher touches his forehead. Mr. Banstore smells strong and secure and oh, _god_ , he does _not_ want to think that about his _teacher_.

His thoughts must telegraph pretty clearly, because Mr. Banstore frowns and pulls his hand back. “Why don’t you come sit up front with me?” he offers, guiding Peter to the front of the bus without putting a hand on him. His flush now might be embarrassment, aware of all the eyes on him. The stares of his classmates are like a physical weight on his skin.

Up front, Mr. Banstore carefully sits down next to him on the bus seat, pitching his voice low. “Peter, has your phenotype presented yet?”

“My… No? Oh, shit, is this--I mean shoot, I mean--I-I gotta call my aunt.” He fumbles with his backpack, searching for his phone.

“The school can call her. When we get back, I want you to head to the nurse’s office instead of back to class.” Mr. Banstore pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Ned can escort you, he’s… safe.”

Peter nods quickly, giving up his frantic search for his phone. Everything is too _much_ right now. Every pothole in the uneven road jolts up the bus’s tires and through his whole body. Every whisper between his classmates is echoing in his ears. Each brush of his skin against the rough vinyl of the bus seat is like sandpaper scraping his skin.

How does anyone live like this? How do Omegas not just go crazy?

He’s going to find out first hand.

Peter closes his eyes tightly, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

* * *

It’s three days before Aunt May can get him to a doctor. Three days curled up in bed, every sound, every touch like hell on his senses. Peter’s never read about being _this_ sensitive during a first heat, everything he’s read, both clinical and erotic, talks about insatiable arousal. Sensitive to touch, sure, the bodice rippers that he resorted to like to play up that aspect, but every little thing is _so_ overwhelming he’s starting to think he might just die. He doesn’t even want to be touched, never mind have sex.

Even sitting in the doctor’s office is too much, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as the nurse’s pen scratches against his clipboard. There’s a child crying in another room, then the crinkle of plastic as a lollipop is unwrapped and _how can he hear that?_ Peter shifts on the exam table, his gaze focused on his bare toes. He’s not slick. He should be a quivering mess of slick in his underwear right now, but as far as he can tell, he’s the same as ever. Just _sensitive_.

The doctor, a gangly-limbed Alpha woman who introduced herself briefly as Dr. Hibana, seems to agree, after a short, awkward exam. She runs her fingers down his back and he arches away from the touch with a wince.

“Have you been experiencing any unusual pain in your back, Peter?”

“No? Why? Is there--” He cranes his neck back, tries to look at where her touch is lingering, high on his back near his shoulder. He can just see the reddened edge of something.

“You have an unusual mark here, almost like a rash. I’m going to take a sample and have it tested. Could be nothing, but it sort of looks like…” She shakes her head. “Impossible. Anyways, you haven’t started heat, but it seems like you’re beginning to present. Happy to inform you that you’re an Omega.” She smiles, making quick work of getting a swab of whatever is on his back before handing over a lollipop. “There are some pamphlets that the discharge nurse will give you, things about heat and consent and suppressors. And you can always come in and talk to someone here about the changes your body is going through.”

“Uh, thanks, I… I might do that.” Like hell. It’s bad enough talking to _one_ person about it, he’s not going to subject himself to more than that.

Peter escapes to the waiting room as quickly as he can, giving Aunt May a pleading look. “I’m not in heat. Can we _please_ go home?”

She flips her magazine closed with a nod, guiding him back home to the apartment.

He goes back to school on Monday and, ever the curious kid with an internet connection, gets his answers.

It has nothing to do with being an Omega and everything to do with being bitten by a spider.

That sort of makes him a superhero now.

In comparison, his first heat a few weeks later doesn’t feel like a very big deal.


	3. I'm Bad Behavior (But I Do It In The Best Way)

It’s mostly self-sabotage, god forbid Tony Stark have something that’s both good and good for him, but it still stings. Rhodey’s busy, that’s fine. Pepper’s busy, that’s fine. Hell, _he’s_ busy lately, designing suit after suit after suit in an effort to feel even a little bit safe. Secure. _Whole_.

They’ve been busy in their lives before and while they don’t always work as a trio, both of his bondmates put forth the effort to make time for him and Tony hopes that he’s put forth enough effort to make time for them to show that he’s not planning to leave them. That he can’t leave them.

That situation is harder to read, though.

The rings he wears on his finger should be enough to show them how he feels. Two pieces of metal, silver and platinum, intertwined with the words of a promise. Perfectly equal amounts of metal, perfectly twined so that one isn’t more prominent than the other. _I am always with you_ carved across both pieces. The rings aren’t complete without both and he isn’t complete without both of his mates.

He knows Pepper still wears her ring, but it’s no longer on her finger, it’s draped around her neck on a delicate gold chain. The slim gold of the ring has a simple engraving, miniscule letters that require a jeweler’s discerning eye to read. _Love doesn’t flinch._

And Rhodey? He hasn’t seen him in a while (which is fine, it’s _fine_ , he lies to himself), but he’s pretty sure… No, Tony has to be sure. He has to be certain that the gold band is still on Rhodey’s finger, too, under the War Machine armor. That the words of it still gently rub against his skin every day. _Love craves love._

He has to be sure of these things because there’s so much in his life he can’t be sure of anymore, so much he’s lost and is now trying to rebuild.

He can’t lose them, too.

So, of course, he does.

“ _You… could’ve… saved… us…_ ”

Gone, dead, all of them, his fault, he couldn’t do more, _why didn’t he do more_ \--

Tony jolts out of the thoughts and looks over his shoulder. Still in Strucker’s little bunker. He calls the armor to him and closes his gauntleted hand on the scepter. “Package secure, I’m heading back to you.”

“Make haste, Barton’s been injured,” Thor warns over his earpiece, and Tony’s heart slams into his throat.

He hasn’t done enough. Still.

* * *

“You know what would fix everything, J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Tony spins in his chair, twirling a screwdriver in one hand.

“ _What’s that, sir?_ ”

“Having a kid. Make Pepper happy, make Rhodey happy, make us all spend more time together. But you know what I can’t do, J.A.R.V.I.S.?” He presses on before the AI can answer, tapping the screwdriver lightly against his chest. “I can’t have kids. Because my insides got torn up so bad it’s amazing I was even alive long enough to know it. Because I poisoned myself with palladium until I was sure I was just going to die anyways. Because I’m such a _fuck up_ that even my kid would probably leave me.”

“ _Sir, statistically speaking the addition of children to a household does not actually correlate with a reduction in stress to the new parents. Rather the opposite occurs, and stress on an already strained relationship can further the divide._ ”

He knows it’s true, that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “I did everything right. I got counseling for the panic attacks. I got the reactor out. I stopped being Iron Man full time. _Everything_ that made them worry, boom, gone. And where are they?”

“ _Ms Potts is currently in Beijing and Colonel Rhodes’ location is listed as undisclosed._ ” There’s a hum, a soft beeping of machinery. “ _He’s in Vladikavkaz._ ”

“Did you just hack into the Pentagon for me?”

“ _Indeed, sir._ ”

That lightens his mood considerably. Tony drops the screwdriver back onto his desk, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. He scratches his stomach lightly, almost _feeling_ it rumble under his fingers. “I’m gonna go find something to eat. Then I’m gonna go over the schematics for the Upstate facility again, and then I’m gonna work on redesigning Cap’s helmet to be less of a helmet.”

“ _Might I suggest sleeping sometime in the midst of all that, sir?_ ”

“Suggestion heard and ignored, J.A.R.V.I.S. A genius’ work is never done.”

He’s fine, mostly. Better than he was. Sure, there’s probably world-ending threats everywhere, like those creepy twins, and whatever power source they couldn’t pull out of Loki’s scepter before Thor took it away, and of course there’s Clint Barton’s Inexorable Bad Luck--

Tony stops halfway into the elevator, his eyes going wide.

Clint Barton.

Clint Barton is pregnant and unbonded and maybe he still _can_ have a kid. Not biologically, but emotionally, he could…

“J.A.R.V.I.S. put Cap’s helmet on the backburner and pull up the utility belt for Barton, I wanna have a prototype done in a couple of days. Put in a call, invite him up for a visit.” He turns on his heel, rushing back to the table. Clint isn’t going to want to raise a kid alone and Tony has a perfectly good family that just needs one more little piece to feel whole. Who better to raise the kid than him? He’ll be the best at it.

He has to be able to do _that_ right, at least.

* * *

In fairness to himself, which he’s usually willing to grant a degree of, he _does_ need Clint to actually try the new equipment sooner or later. And given the frequency of world-ending threats, sooner is better. Plus, he wants the belt and armor to fit post-baby. So it’s completely reasonable to prioritize Clint’s equipment upgrades and invite him up to try them out before he’s too far along.

A new belt, a new set of upper body armor, and a new quiver for his arrows. Tony _could_ design a new bow, some new arrows, but the last time he’d offered, Clint had looked at him like he was crazy and started ranting about aerodynamics in decidedly unscientific language. For once in his life, Tony had taken the hint. Don’t mess with Clint’s archery stuff. Fine.

The armor isn’t anything complex, just refabrication to be as lightweight as he needs but more durable. It won’t stop a bullet, but it won’t get shredded in a fight, either. Won’t reduce his range of motion or slow him down. Those are the things that Clint needs, agility and unpredictability.

The belt he’s rather proud of, if he’s being honest. Who doesn’t like a good utility belt on a superhero? It’s got a mini grappling hook, a space for arrowheads, a handful of little pouches and pockets, and a vitals monitor that feeds back to J.A.R.V.I.S. He’s made a similar one for Natasha under the reasoning that Team Human need to look out for each other.

And the pièce de résistance, the quiver upgrade. Adjustable to be shoulder-slung or hip-slung, based on the designs of the bow Clint was using in New York with a few extras. Lightweight, capable of holding more arrows, with just a little bit of tweaking to be multifunctional. He doubts Clint will ever use it as such, but he had fun turning it into a back-mounted shield regardless.

“It isn’t vibranium, but it’ll stop a bullet or two,” he offers as Clint slings it on, loads in a few practice arrows. Tony steps closer, adjusting the armor and belt, his hands lingering on the slight swell of Clint’s stomach. Omega to Omega, he can ask the question, admit his ulterior motive. “Just wondering… Have you thought about the a-word?”

Clint goes stiff, drawing away from him. “Absolutely not, Stark. This baby is the last piece of Brock I have left,” his voice catches slightly and he breathes out slowly, “I’m not getting an abortion--”

Tony waves a hand frantically. “I meant adoption.” His face contorts, stricken. “God, the other one didn’t even cross my mind. I just mean…” The look on Clint’s face, the words, _the last piece of Brock I have left_ , are enough to tell him that his half-cocked idea is fully pointless. But he’s not Tony Stark if he doesn’t press his luck. “If you didn’t want to raise it, adoption would be a good idea. I can think of a good home already.”

“Yeah?”

Well, at least Clint’s a little willing to hear him out. Tony straightens up slightly. “Yeah. Mine.” He taps his chest, where the ARC reactor used to be. “I can’t have kids.” And that’s where the truth of his situation ends, where he offers lies instead. “Pepper wants kids.” Pepper has never spoken one way or the other about it. “Rhodey won’t mind if we adopt.” Rhodey also has not voiced an opinion to him. But whose fault is that, when his own bondmates are too busy on the other side of the world to discuss it with him? “If you need somewhere that yours will be safe, and taken care of, where you can still visit… We’d take it.” They have to come home if there’s a kid for them to raise. They have to come back to him.

Clint’s already shaking his head. “I have somewhere safe. I have someone who can help out.”

“You don’t have a bondmate, Clint.”

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed that he _died_.” Their eyes lock again briefly, before Clint relents a little. ““Sorry. It’s… I talked to a clinic about it, early on. It’s not impossible to have a baby without a bondmate, without the father in your life. Difficult, but that’s par for the course with me.” Clint shrugs, looking away again. “The clinic said that another Alpha might not accept the baby, that I could lose the bond, or worse lose the pregnancy. The best option is someone close to the father, like a sibling. Except Brock didn’t have any siblings.”

So much for his plan, his idea, his solution. Tony straightens his back, nodding. “If you need any help, the team is here for you. _I’m_ here for you.” Omega to Omega, human to human, man to man, fucked-over-by-life to fucked-over-by-himself. However Clint might need him, if he does at all. He slaps his hand onto the other Omega’s shoulder gently, his grin coming back. “Now, show off how cool my enhancements to your usual style are.” 

“Meant to ask, Stark--why are they purple?”

It’s easy to slip back into the banter, into the process of being the team genius, billionaire, inventor. Tony puts his thoughts of children onto the back burner, works with Clint on the belt and quiver and other ideas the man has for battlefield enhancements. Treats him to a good dinner in the city before sending him back out to the farm. R&R instead of R&D, maybe he should try it some time.

Then again, what’s he going to do with time off? Sit and realize how alone he is? No thanks, he’d rather suppress all those issues under a workload that he doesn’t need to take on.

Pepper and Rhodey will come back around. They have to. They must feel the same pull as he does.

They wouldn’t be his bondmates if they didn’t.


	4. (Comparing Your Past) To My Future

_Test 317: Tensile Strength vs Flexibility._

Peter scratches notes and ideas in his notebook, his mind spinning a mile a minute. He can manufacture the webbing in chemistry class, build something to house it in the tech shop, design a suit in home ec, and--

“Mr. Parker, are you with us?”

Peter jolts up, flushing guiltily. And get called out in history for not paying attention. He glances down at his notebook, his eyes sliding over to Ned’s as well. Comic doodles, _Star Wars_ , unhelpful. He looks back to the board, but it’s mostly blank. One more frantic glance around the classroom for help--there, across the room, Michelle, yawning and stretching, showing off her Ramones t-shirt. It’s gotta be a hint.

“Punk rock?” He guesses, sinking into his seat as the rest of the class laughs.

Mrs. Tilitan shakes her head. “No, Mr. Parker, Howard Stark did not design Captain America’s shield from punk rock. Amusing guess, though. Mr. Thompson?”

“The actual answer would be vibranium.”

Peter sinks lower in his seat as the giggles die down and the lecture continues, flipping his notebook to a fresh page. He just wants to get down to the chem lab and make some more samples, then get out on the streets and test them. Dammit, Iron Man never had to deal with teachers and annoying classmates and _homework_. 

Then again, Iron Man had to deal with being held captive by terrorists, so maybe Mrs. Tilitan’s essay-a-week class schedule isn’t too brutal.

He doesn’t look any more eager to leave than anyone else as the bell rings, flipping his notebooks closed and stuffing them in his bag. Peter stands up, starting towards the door before a hand claps on his shoulder.

“You’re coming over this weekend, right? I got the Lego Millennium Falcon. Did your aunt okay it?” Ned gives him a grin, shouldering his own backpack.

“What--yeah, I’ll…” Peter shifts his bag on his shoulders, glancing past his friend and down the hall. “I gotta do a little extra credit assignment for chemistry, but I’ll be there as soon as I’m done.”

“What’s with all the chemistry extra credit lately? That’s like your best class, isn’t it?” Still, Ned shrugs him off, clapping his upper arm gently. “Oh, my mom’s on a Moroccan food kick lately, so make sure to bring some Rolaids. Everything she makes is, like, atomic spicy.”

“Right, yeah, got it.” Peter escapes as quickly as he can, practically sprinting for the chemistry lab. He left Test 316: Duration in a Vacuum under a webcam overnight, he needs to scrub through the footage while Test 317 sets up. He can work on some more housing sketches, too, before heading over to Ned’s. And there’s still suit design to consider, he needs something that hides his identity and doesn’t overwhelm his senses. There’s too much on his mind, lately, not even factoring in the end of the school year.

Peter ducks around a corner, letting out an _oof!_ as he crashes full-body into someone. He hits the floor and slides, pushes himself up to his feet and stares. “I am _so_ sorry, I wasn’t paying attention--”

“No, it’s cool, just… bruised pride.” She pushes herself to sitting up, sweeping the scatter of pencils back towards herself.

Immediately, he drops to his knees, helping her pick up the spilled papers. Sketch paper, rough under his fingertips, and he unthinkingly flips one over, blinking in surprise. “Uh.” That’s his face in charcoal staring back at him.

“You sit still when you zone out. Makes a good sketch opportunity. Granted, you also sort of look like a corpse,” Michelle explains, snatching the paper from him and shoving it into her notebook. Peter looks at her face, but she’s not blushing. “Where were you running off to?”

“Chemistry lab. I’m doing extra credit.”

“Oh. Nerd.”

“Well, I, uh… better go.” God, did his voice just crack? That hasn’t happened since _middle school_. “Um, ‘bye.” Quick as he can, but paying attention this time, Peter escapes.

Thank god for Mr. Harrington’s liberal policy with the lab. Peter signs himself in, ducking to the back of the class and getting ready. As long as he doesn’t cause any major explosions, his teacher pretty much looks the other way on what he’s doing. Granted, he _did_ have to make a deal to join the academic decathlon team next year in exchange for so much freedom in a lab he isn’t technically supposed to have access to--practicals start sophomore year, freshman year is all classwork. Small prices to pay, and he’s still working on how to worm his way out of it.

Peter drops his bag and his notebooks, settling in to get started on his next series of tests. One day, he’ll have his own lab, his own whole team of scientists to do the grunt work. For now, he has twenty-four hours of footage to scrub through, chemical compounds to mix, and equations to do.

“Tony Stark who?” he whispers to himself, shaking his head and laughing a little. “Sure, he discovered a new element, but could he make this stuff in a high school chemistry lab?”

Actually, he probably could. That’s neither here nor there, however.

Peter shakes it off, getting to work.

* * *

“Whoohoo!” Peter yells, releasing the web and doing a flip, shooting another one. He sees it attach to the light post and pulls himself in a little tighter, body curling to run along the side of the old brownstone and execute his turn. 

_Test 930: Elasticity_ is a resounding success.

He lands crouched on a mailbox, grinning under his mask and giving a little girl a wave. Her shy smile and returned wave before she hides in her mother’s skirt warms his heart and he jumps down, looking around. Just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman, out on patrol.

He buys two hot dogs from a street vendor and scales a building to take his mask off and eat. Queens seems safe for another day, the noise of the city is routine. No one screaming for help, no alarms, no reason for him to spring into action.

His gaze tracks west, towards Manhattan, and although he can’t actually see it, he can picture Stark Tower there. Avengers Tower? Whatever they’re calling it now. Home to real superheroes, not kids in masks who run around stopping muggings. The kind of people that save the world.

“One day…” He takes a bite of his hot dog, glancing down as mustard spurts from the other end of the bun and lands on his pants. “Aw, man.”

His heels kick against the side of the building, head cocked as he listens. It’s not quite sundown, but he should probably get home. Aunt May promised to make dinner with him.

That’s one side effect of being a superhero he never saw coming: the increase in his appetite. Whether it’s metabolic changes due to altered DNA or just the amount of running around he does on a daily basis now, he eats about twice as much as he used to. It’s a good thing he’s ‘a growing boy,’ as his aunt likes to say, or it’d be pretty suspicious.

Peter stands up, wiping his hands on the seat of his pants and readjusting his mask. He steps off the edge of the building, shooting a web and catching himself, swinging towards home.

At the corner of 46th and Utopia is a CVS, and this business has a camera on its front door. Peter has seen this camera, seen himself on this camera when he’s gone in to get something from the drug store. He doesn’t think much of it as he swings past it, even when the camera turns to follow his progress. He’s not Peter Parker right now, after all, he’s Spiderman.

* * *

He can’t exactly come swinging in from the fire escape, so Peter slips down into the alley outside his bedroom window and changes from his suit into his clothes from that morning. Real superheroes don’t get dressed behind dumpsters, but he’ll take what he can get for now. At least the relative privacy makes him unlikely to be noticed.

He hurries up the steps, letting himself in to the apartment and inhaling in anticipation of May’s cooking. “May, I’m h--”

Peter’s breath freezes in his throat, his eyes tracking over the scene. May on the couch, her wrists bound, tape over her mouth and her eyes wide. She yells something unintelligible and the hair on the back of his neck raises.

 _Danger_.

The woman that steps out from the kitchen looks familiar, but it takes him extra seconds to place her. “Hello, Peter Parker…” She smiles, almost warm and inviting, and it cements into place. “Or should I call you Spiderman?”

Dr. Hibana. The doctor that noticed the spider bite, that took a sample of it.

He acts before he can think, grabs the catch-all basket by the front table and throws it at her. Peter ducks and rolls across the room to May, catching a face full of odds and ends as he gets to his knees. He grabs the coffee table, puts it up on end just as a knife embeds in it where his head was.

“What do you want?!” He shouts, frantically trying to both dodge the continuing assault of knick knacks and get May untied.

“A little Omega like you shouldn’t be out putting himself in danger, Peter. Playing hero.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Half-exasperated, somewhere under the pounding adrenaline. Peter rolls back just before the microwave crashes into the space he had been in. On the couch, May screams and flinches back.

“You should know,” Dr. Hibana says, closer now, her arm snaking around May, “how much danger you’re putting her in.” Something whips towards him and he ducks on instinct, hears May’s muffled screams and breaking glass.

He scrambles to his feet and runs for the broken window, but they’re already out of sight.


	5. The Guard Dog (Of All Your Fever Dreams)

Having the team back together feels good. Right. He can put on his armor and be needed. Even when the job in Sokovia goes completely off the rails, there’s good that Tony can do. Protecting innocent people. Proving to the Maximoffs that he isn’t the monster his name built.

Getting out to the castle is easy, getting through the energy barrier more difficult. “ _It seems they’ve patched things since the last time, sir._ ” J.A.R.V.I.S. notes, readings flashing across Tony’s H.U.D. No visible weaknesses.

He circles around it twice before going back for Wanda, landing close and offering out a hand. “Need a lift, Carrie?”

“That’s not my name.”

“I know, it’s--nevermind. Come on, we’re on the clock.” He wraps one arm around her, lifting up and heading back towards the castle. “If I can get you close, you think you can get inside?”

Red energy crackles around Wanda’s fingers, her mouth curving into a smirk. “I think I can do that, yes.”

He works to keep the ground troops distracted while she breaks in, cursing under his breath as a truck with a gun mounted on it takes off into the woods. Tony ducks a couple of shots, turning his comm back to full broadcast. The others complain enough about his conversations with J.A.R.V.I.S. over open mic. “Rogers, Barton, you’ve got heavy fire incoming.”

He can hear the explosion over the earpiece, the huffed sarcasm of Clint’s response. “Thanks, Tony, your timing is _incredible_.”

Well, the vital sign monitoring utility belt isn’t giving him any alerts, so obviously it is. “I live to serve. Wanda, how’s the barrier coming?”

“I made a small window. I’ll try to shut it down from the inside.”

“Backin’ you up.” Tony hurries towards her, slipping through the hole in the shimmer of the barrier. He scans once they’re inside, gesturing towards the center of the structure. “Energy source is coming from this way.” There’s a hiss of static in his earpiece, the voices of the team turning faint. “Looks like we’re doing this job alone.”

It’s quiet work, infiltrating the castle. Steve and Clint are pulling a lot of the attention outside, and according to his heat signature scans--finally working now that he’s inside the barrier--there aren’t too many warm bodies left in this place. Tony gestures for Wanda to hold up as they get close to the energy source, his voice low.

“Three in there, stand back and I’ll--”

She steps past him, into the doorway, her hands and eyes lighting up red. There’s a short scream, a brief burst of gunfire, and then the sounds of three bodies dropping to the ground. Wanda turns back to him, her head cocked to one side. “You were saying?”

Tony lets out a low whistle. “This isn’t a performance assessment, you know.” He steps out of the suit, leaving it on sentinel and moving to the barrier’s power source. Easy enough to turn it off, and having Wanda at his back isn’t the worst.

“Stark… The name that means death, held by the man that fears death…” She murmurs, thoughtful. “I’ve seen inside your head. Seen your deepest fear--”

“Then you know I’m not afraid to die.”

“No, but you are afraid to let others down. To lose people. Afraid that if you allow them to be close, they will leave you.” Her hand rubs her arm, eyes locked on him. “Why let them in, then? Other people, they only hurt you and leave you. No matter what you do.”

“Is this some sort of ‘evil all along’ reveal where you’re going to try to kill me now?” Tony blows out a breath, turning away as the barrier finally drops. “You saw inside Barton’s head, too, right? What’d you see?”

She looks guarded, her eyes tracking over him quickly as the chatter of the team resumes in their ears. “I saw love.”

“Everyone, status update,” Steve’s voice comes over the comms and Tony shakes his head. That’s a conversation for later.

“That’s all it is, really. The love that’s stronger than the fear.” He steps back to the suit, switching his comm over. “Barrier’s down, Wanda and I have almost finished clearing out the castle.” He gives Wanda a raised eyebrow before the faceplate on his suit lowers. “Come on, Matilda, job’s not over yet.”

* * *

The upstate facility is ready to go, a few quick modifications and a phone call to Hill on the way back from Sokovia. Steve’s turned up missing and Bruce is avoiding his questions about it, but Tony pushes that to the back of his mind. He can deal with those problems later.

His focus instead lands on Thor, on the scepter that he’s currently holding. Tony sidles closer, his voice dropping low. “Not thinking about taking over the world, right, Thunderstruck?”

“The influence of Loki’s magic cannot cloud my mind. But this… there is something about this scepter… About its power… Not a draw, but a piece of a greater puzzle.” He frowns, spinning it in his hand before holding it up, the gem gleaming amidst the blades. “It reminds me of the Aether. Of the Tesseract.”

“The readings Bruce and I got on it were similar to the ones Selvig was getting from the Tesseract before your brother showed up. Do you have an R&D department on Asgard?” Tony pulls the glove of his suit to himself, taking the scepter and turning it. “The Tesseract was a door, a gateway. This one…”

“The ability to alter the mind. I believe its influence is what drove Loki mad.”

“Or,” Bruce steps up, gently guiding Tony’s hand to give the scepter back to Thor, “your brother is just crazy as a bag of cats.”

Thor looks affronted for a moment. “He’s getting better.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Tony holds up his hand between them, shaking his fingers out. “So, the Tesseract, the scepter, and… the Aether, you said? What’s their deal?”

“I’m not sure. But something about them…” Thor shakes his head. “I might have an idea. Give me two days with the scepter when we return and I’ll see what I can do.”

He can’t exactly argue with that. “Two days. Just don’t turn evil.”

* * *

Clint’s taking care of the Maximoffs, Thor’s off doing who-knows-what with the scepter for another day and a half, and Natasha has disappeared, taking Sam with her. Tony meanders around the complex for the evening, showing off the lab to Bruce, catching up with Hill on what’s happened since he was last here. An old weapons manufacturing plant in upstate New York, now a place for the team to assemble. And a target for their enemies that’s not smack in the middle of a civilian population.

He sits on the couch early, a tablet in hand, only vaguely aware of Clint moving around in the kitchen. Tony becomes much more aware of the other Omega when feet settle in his lap, pushing them aside with a snort.

“We almost outnumber them now,” Clint notes, taking a loud sip of coffee.

He sets the tablet aside for a moment, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “We outnumber any one type, which is good enough for me.” He glances over, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “How’s Natey?” No question, Clint loves that kid. So does Sam. He can’t imagine taking that baby away from them.

“Sound asleep. Hearing aide in one ear, baby monitor in the other. I’m multitasking like all the best moms do.” It never pays to underestimate how cleverly brilliant Clint can be. He’s like a constant reminder to Tony that there’s more than one type of smart. “How’s your family?” Including emotional intelligence, something Tony is pretty sure he stopped developing around the age of six.

He touches the back of his neck briefly, looking away. “They’re good.” Living their lives without him. “Rhodey’s got his own government sanctioned heroics going on, and Pepper’s busy making sure that my company actually turns a profit.” Staying away from him and the danger he puts them in. Being gone so they won’t be lost. “They’re real good.”

“Tony…” Another loud sip of coffee and he winces in preparation of what’s coming. No use lying to another bonded Omega about how a bond is crumbling. “When’s the last time you actually spent time with them?” Clint presses on before he can answer, “with both of them at the same time?”

When in doubt, deflect. He’s good at that. Better at that than at having an honest conversation. “Not everyone is joined at the hip like you and Sam are, Clint.” 

Silence, save for the sound of him sipping his coffee. Well, two can play that game. Tony idly taps on the tablet again, letting the quiet spin out as Clint’s coffee mug empties. If he can hold out until the man is out of coffee, he can escape when Clint goes to get more. Why can’t his kid start fussing or one of the twins come looking for him or Bruce have a Code Green, just _something_ to break the expectant silence between them?

The silence is cracked by words rushing out of him. “We’re taking a break. The three person thing… isn’t working so well. They’re fine as friends, good friends even, but they both want me and don’t particularly want each other and I’m sick of getting stuck in the middle. Which, I know, weird for me to complain about having too much attention, but…” But almost all of that is a lie and he’s pretty sure it’s written all over his face. Pepper and Rhodey aren’t jealous of each other, they’re practically best friends. Held together by way more glue than just him. He’s the one that’s been isolating and he knows it, staying in the city instead of travelling with Pepper, locking himself in the lab instead of going out to lunch with Rhodey. Tony takes a breath, flipping the tablet towards Clint. _Please, don’t call out the subject change._ “Have you seen this? We’ve got another enhanced guy running around.”

It’s grainy security camera footage from the CVS on the corner of 46th and Utopia in Queens, but it’s enough. Some guy in a costume and mask, swinging on something rope-like across the street. There’s more short videos saved on there, more research he’s been burying himself in instead of facing his real problems. 

“What’s with the costume?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to announce ‘I am Iron Man’ to the world, I’d guess, but doesn’t understand covert operations as well as you and Romanoff. Take a look at this, though.” He flips to another file, another video. Attempted mugging, something firing at the muggers from above, leaving them bound in a similar substance, maybe the same one, as what their masked vigilante was swinging from. 

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Are those supposed to be spiderwebs?”

“I think so. J.A.R.V.I.S. just tipped me off about these videos being captured, I’m going to try to get a sample of this stuff. If I can trace where it’s being made, I can find this Spider Guy and…” Tony stops himself short, aware that he’s probably babbling too much. A rare moment of self-awareness, perhaps, but if he’s not careful, Clint will get him circling back to Pepper and Rhodey and he’ll say something he doesn’t mean to. “See where it goes from there.”

“Good luck.” Clint pushes himself to his feet, coming back with a fresh cup of coffee. Tony skims through more videos, looking for one with the latest time stamp. If he can find some webbing, he can send J.A.R.V.I.S. down in one of the legion suits to get the sample and start the analysis. “Speaking of J.A.R.V.I.S., I’m amazed he’s not installed here,” Clint adds, settling down next to him once more.

Tony starts, pulling his head back to the conversation. Clint’s surprised and… disappointed? That J.A.R.V.I.S. isn’t constantly hovering over his shoulder? Wonders will never cease. “I have him down in the lab and in my room, but Hill had very specific orders that he not be in every corner of this place. Apparently being watched all the time makes some people uncomfortable.” Tony glances at Clint with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t imagine who.”

“Yeah, neither can I, you ass.”

“Oh, that’s going in the swear jar.” Tony flees from the couch and Clint’s half-hearted kicking, walking backwards out of the room. “Hey, come on down to the lab if you want. We’re studying the scepter.”

Another loud sipping of coffee. “Hard pass. I’ll save the magic for you guys.”

He freezes in the doorway, his fingers curling around the tablet. He had this fight with Steve, he’ll have it with Clint, too, dammit.. “It’s _not_ magic, it’s just science that--”

“Thor can fly, Tony.”

It’s not worth fighting Clint, not when he’s clearly going to go with the internet’s favorite ‘insane troll logic’ to try to win. And not when he doesn’t actually care about being wrong. Tony raises his middle finger instead, ducking out of the room. He’s feeling pretty great, all things considered. He had a few hours of sleep last night, he has a _fascinating_ set of new projects to work on, and no one is currently trying to destroy the world as far as he knows.

And sure, the team will spread out again and soon enough it’ll be just him and his projects but that’s fine. He understands. They’ll come back when he calls. If he bothers to call.

At least he has J.A.R.V.I.S. His constant companion, his one true ally against a world that wants him to be alone.

When J.A.R.V.I.S. says _I am always with you_ , it means _I will never leave you_. Tony programmed him like that.


	6. (The Only Payoff) For Having Any Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, hope you're doing okay! It's crazy what can happen in a week, and unfortunately as someone who works in an essential service, I've been absolutely insanely busy at work. If this update is late it's because I was at work when I was supposed to post, my bad. <3 Take care of yourselves, wash your hands, and listen to health authorities.

Think, Peter, _think_! He berates himself, his heart pounding, body frozen at the window as if Dr. Hibana and Aunt May are going to come running back if he doesn’t give chase. He doesn’t even _know_ this woman, but now she has his aunt and he has no way to--

Peter takes a breath, trying to ease his heartrate. She can’t have gone far, not with someone who’s clearly been kidnapped. He needs to find her, which means he needs help. Hastily, Peter pulls his clothes off and his Spiderman costume back on, all except the mask. Then he snatches his cell phone from his backpack, selecting Ned’s name from his contact list, trying to pace out the rest of his nervous energy.

“Peter?” Ned’s voice, in a low whisper. “I can’t talk right now, I’m at choir--”

“Ned, I need a favor. No, wait, I need two favors. Can you get to the computer lab and keep a secret?”

The pause on the line is almost unbearable, but who else can he turn to? Ned Leeds is his best friend in the world, they’ve been besties since they were six, if there’s anyone he can count on… It has to be Ned.

“Okay, I’m on my way to the lab. What’s going on?”

“May’s been kidnapped--”

“Holy _shit_ , call the _police_!” Ned bursts out.

“I can’t!” Peter shouts right back, running his hand through his hair. “She got kidnapped because of me. I’m… Listen, you _have_ to keep this a secret. Just telling you puts you in danger… Oh, god, I shouldn’t tell you…”

“Are you working for the mob or something? I don’t mess with the mob, Peter. Not even for you.”

“What? No, I’m not working for the mob, I’m Spiderman!”

It’s out of his mouth before he can think it through and his pacing freezes abruptly. On the other end of the phone call, Ned makes a sound like he’s choking on a drink.

“You… You’re…” His voice lowers into a conspiratory whisper. “You’re _Spiderman_ , and you want _my_ help? You’re a superhero, dude!”

“And you’re better at pattern recognition than I’ve ever been. Are you at the lab yet?” Metaphorical cat’s out of the bag, he needs to focus on Aunt May. 

“Yeah, one second--okay. What do you need?” Ned lets out a little gasp and even over the phone, Peter can see his face light up. “I’m your guy in the chair!”

“Ned, focus, _please_. I need you to look up a Doctor Hibana, she works at an office down by Ozo--”

Ned cuts him off. “Doctor Ashton Hibana, she’s listed at a ton of places, all over the city. And… oh, shit, dude.”

“ _What_?”

“She’s on the Omega Free Service Clinic Blacklist. Apparently she’s a, uh, traditionalist.”

Peter groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She kidnapped Aunt May. She knows I’m Spiderman. Said something about how an Omega shouldn’t be playing hero. How am I supposed to find her?”

“That’s what you have me for, right? Come on, Peter, you could have googled her yourself, but with my amazing abilities and your super powers…” Ned trails off, and Peter can hear typing over the phone. “Are you at your place?”

“Yeah.”

Ned lists a location and Peter pulls his mask on, out the window almost before he’s hung up the phone,

* * *

He’s not dumb enough to go charging in. Peter plants himself on a fire escape, his steps light so the metal won’t creak. He breathes slowly through the mask, tracking back over the brief fight in the apartment. No more than a minute had passed from when he’d walked in the door until Dr. Hibana and Aunt May had gone out the window. He stretches the time out mentally, each move made, tries to analyze. This is more than just a mugger or someone holding up a bodega.

At the door, feel something off, that frisson of _danger_ that raised all the hairs on the back of his neck. Act normal.

_“May, I’m h--”_

He’d thrown the key basket at Dr. Hibana, just something to get her distracted while he got to May, bound up on the couch. It hadn’t worked, she’d caught it and thrown it back, pelted him with the assorted small items. So her reflexes were as good as his. 

The knife that she’d thrown had embedded itself in the cheap plywood of the coffee table, just a regular steak knife from the kitchen. Some sort of strength enhancement, most likely.

_“I’m going to take a sample…”_

Had she found a way to copy whatever had happened to him after the spider bite? It seemed the most likely answer. Realized what it was, what it had done to him, and…

And decided he isn’t worthy of the power because he’s an Omega. Decided that such a thing should belong to an Alpha instead. Traditionalist. Alphas should be the protectors, Omegas should be the protected.

Peter squares his shoulders, grabbing onto the top of the busted out window. He’s going to protect his aunt, not because she’s an Omega but because he has to. He has the means to save her, he can’t not use them.

_“If you have the means to help and choose not to, you become part of the problem.”_

That voice he doesn’t need in his head. Not when he has this to focus on. Peter shakes it out, taking one last deep breath before swinging himself into the room.

“Well, well, look who came scurrying into my web.”

He moves without thinking, flips backwards and shoots a web to the ceiling to pull himself up, just as the knife slices through where he was. There’s no time to stop, no time to think, he just has to act.

Two more webs, one at where Dr. Hibana is, and one-- _yes_! He catches her ankle as she jumps away, yanks her off her feet.

The next shot goes wide as she throws another knife at him and he drops from the ceiling. By the time he’s upright again she’s got the webbing holding her ankle cut away, has backed herself towards an open doorway. He glances around the room, firing one web at her face and another into the corner. Peter yanks, spinning out of the way of the next knife she throws, pulling the crumbling brick wall with all his might.

The wall gives and the roof overhead creaks dangerously. Perfect.

Dr. Hibana ducks out of the room, her footsteps loud on the stairs, but uneven. Partially using the walls. He counts steps as he bolts for the window, diving out and hooking a web onto the fire escape, swinging back in on the next floor down. The metal crashes outside, resting against the building on the other side of the narrow alley, and his feet connect with the solid mass of Dr. Hibana as she comes out of the stairwell.

Peter kicks off her, planting himself on the ceiling once more. “Where is she?”

The Alpha woman bares her teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yeah, like he really expected a single good kick to be enough. Still, the question did what he wanted. Peter jerks backwards and fires a web, pulling another chunk of wall loose. He makes another attempt at binding her up, already aware it’s not going to work. Keep moving. Outthink her. She’s leading him and he knows it.

Dr. Hibana moves backwards through a doorway and Peter gives chase, coughing as her arm catches him in the throat. He goes down and sweeps his leg out, sees her triumphant face fall as she topples. Really, she thought that took him _completely_ by surprise?

He springs back up and is on top of her, web shooting out to bind her wrist down as soon as he catches it. A knife slips up her sleeve on her other hand, slashes across his upper arm, then his chest as he tries to grab her failing wrist. Peter hisses, leaping out of range and shooting more webbing.

Even with one arm bound up, she jerks out of the way of the shots. He hears a _crack_ after one particular movement, winces to see that her wrist is now bending in the wrong direction.

“You know, the healing factor isn’t _that_ great.”

She spares him a glance and a smirk, snapping her wrist back into place, now free of the webs. “Just because you Omegas can’t handle a little pain doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Seriously, your obsession with this whole Omega thing is unsettling. No wonder the Free Services Clinics blacklisted you.”

He can practically feel how it works. The next knife she throws isn’t even close to him and Peter shoots out a web, catches it and throws it back.

“What do you even know about that?!”

“That you’re an awful doctor.” He ducks out of the way as she charges at him. “That your medical license was suspended in three other states.” Two webs and this time he gets both her ankles, trips her up face down onto the floor. “That you were supposed to be on trial in Boston for assaulting an Omega patient of yours.”

Another two webs catch her wrists and Dr. Hibana thrashes, trying to break free.

Peter takes careful steps closer, crouching down in front of her. “I know that you’re not interested in helping people, even though you have the means to do so. And that makes you part of the problem.”

He shoots a web past her, yanking the other wall down. There’s a fine tremor through the building and Peter stands up. “Don’t worry, they’ll dig you out soon enough. And I’m sure the NYPD will be happy to send you back to Boston.”

Peter jumps out the window just before the building falls in, Dr. Hibana’s screams echoing behind him before cutting off. 

The building’s too far away from home for her to have dragged Aunt May all the way here. He makes his way back across the city, swinging around corners and dropping to the sidewalks to run when he has to.

There’s an empty apartment building less than a block from his own, crumbling old locks on the doors and busted out windows. Peter swings into it, making his way down floor by floor. He finds Aunt May in the basement and undoes the gag on her mouth, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Hey, you’re okay now, it’s okay…”

“Peter?” She lets out a choked sob as he unties her, reaching up and starting to pull the mask off his face. “What… how… you’re…”

“Yeah, I… Sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…” He looks down, a little sheepish. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

He gets her home, helps her clean up. Turns on the news in time to see a little piece about a building collapsing unexpectedly in Queens. About the body of a woman pulled from the rubble.

Peter shuts the television off quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. The knife throws that became less accurate. The struggling that became more intense but less effective. The look in her eyes that he’d ignored when she wasn’t able to keep dodging his webs.

He settles on the couch close to May that evening, his head resting on her shoulder. “I can’t give this up, Aunt May.”

She strokes his hair, her sigh resigned. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Peter glances up, his smile only a little sheepish. “Ned knows, too. I had to tell him. He told me how to find you.”

Aunt May frowns, pinching his cheek lightly. “If anything happens to that nice young man because you’re a superhero, I’m going to ground you until you’re thirty.”

 _That_ gets a reaction from him, a huff of shock and mild terror. “Thirty?! But that’s _old_!” Their old jokes, their old routines. Like nothing has changed.

It’s fine. Everything’s going to work out just fine.


	7. The Watcher (Of The Eternal Flame)

“Run it again, J, 99% processing power to Legion-001.”

The screen in front of him lights up, rapidly scrolling with numbers as J.A.R.V.I.S. calculates. After a few seconds, it flashes red.

“99.2%?” Tony asks, already resigning himself to the answer. J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn’t even humor him with a calculation. “Okay… So we put 100% of your processing power into Legion-001. That leaves the house and the tower offline.”

_“I can initiate the F.R.I.D.A.Y. protocol, sir.”_

“Better let Pepper know that her phone and tablet are going to be changing. Rhodey too.” J.A.R.V.I.S. is quiet for a moment, and Tony sighs. “Don’t say it--”

_“Would you like to let Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes know about the changes personally, sir?”_

“I said don’t say--no, it’s fine, just send them a ping alert that you’ll be down for… ten minutes, tomorrow? And that they’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. taking over in that time.”

A computer shouldn’t be able to sigh, but J.A.R.V.I.S. does. _“As you wish, sir.”_

It’s late, and while most of his best ideas come from caffeine binges at ridiculous hours, he wants to be on his game tomorrow. Everything they’ve learned about the scepter says that _it’s_ not dangerous, but the item contained within it, the Infinity Stone, _can_ be. 

The plan is simple, effective, and honestly brilliant. Thor and Wanda hit it with everything they have, break the shielding around it. J.A.R.V.I.S., in the Iron Legion armor, catches it. Thor says that a human isn’t capable of holding an Infinity Stone, its raw energy would destroy them, but the armor should be able to hold up. Once they have it out of the scepter, they can study it more closely, try to figure out how to contain its power.

Or destroy it, though the mere idea of that makes his chest hurt. They already lost their chance with the Tesseract, when Thor and Loki took it back to Asgard. He’s not going to miss this opportunity.

Tony sits back in his chair, looking over to the containment field and the scepter within. “Tomorrow…” He nods slowly, his feet kicked up on the desk. “We just might make a whole new world.”

* * *

It’s silent.

Sure, the others are talking, excited babble, nervous babble, confused babble, but the most important voice is silent, and that voice is _never_ silent when he calls for it.

Tony runs his hands through his hair, then again, shaking his head as if he just can’t hear.

J.A.R.V.I.S. isn’t answering him.

He rakes his hand across the desk, sweeping equipment and papers onto the floor with a crash that he doesn’t hear. Someone shouts, a blur under the panic growing inside him, starting to spiral out.

“I put him in the legion. I put his programming into _that_ bot so that he’d have the reaction times to do what we needed. _I killed him_.” He shoves at the desk and it squeals against the floor as it slides a couple of inches. Sound is still coming out of him, his jaw working, grief and fear and loss and _pain_ exiting his chest in wordless noise that he still can’t really hear. His ears are attuned for the sound he already knows he’s never going to hear again.

The room’s emptying out, everyone else leaving, abandoning him. Why wouldn’t they? He can’t even keep J.A.R.V.I.S. around, and he programmed the AI to stay. He deserves to be alone. Pepper knew it, Rhodey knew it, the team knew it, and now J.A.R.V.I.S. has finally realized it. 

“I killed him I killed him I--” A hand lands on his shoulder and he goes stiff, squeezing his eyes shut. “Let go.” Leave. Leave him alone like he deserves, like everyone else.

“Easy does it.” Clint’s voice. Why would Clint stay? Clint has a family. Clint has _people_ that matter to him and people who he matters to. He doesn’t need to keep being Tony’s pity-friend. They don’t even have being the only Omegas on the team to bond over anymore, now that the twins are apparently sticking around. Clint’s still talking, still touching him, thumb rubbing into the back of his neck between his fading bond scars. “Talk me through it, smart guy. You’re telling me that you pulled J.A.R.V.I.S. out of every installation? The house in Malibu? The Tower in the city? Every computer, laptop, tablet, and phone that he’s ever touched?”

“ _Yes_.” Just blame him already, _hate_ him already, and leave, he wants to scream. “We simulated what we thought would happen and determined that he needed his full focus on this to have the reaction time. No other tasks could be running. J.A.R.V.I.S. was completely in that room and now he’s--”

“Sir?”

Tony almost collapses with relief to hear that voice, but behind him, Clint goes stiff. “Tony…”

He turns and looks, his heart picking up. That isn’t J.A.R.V.I.S. That isn’t the Legion-001 suit. That is… it’s… “I don’t know.”

* * *

Tony doesn’t begrudge Clint taking off with Sam and Natey. They’re a family, they belong together.

He packs his own room into his car, too sick of the silence without J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision isn’t J.A.R.V.I.S., they’re something different, something more. His dreams come true, maybe.

Steve’s leaning on his car when Tony comes to the garage, arms crossed, face pinched. “Tony,” he starts, pushing off the polished red convertible. “You don’t have to go.”

“Sure I do, Cap.” He slings his bag into the back, pushes his sunglasses up onto his forehead. “It’s not you it’s me, all of that. We’re at different places in our lives.”

Steve blows out a breath, looking past him. “The team still needs you.”

Tony follows his gaze back to the elevator, the complex beyond. Wanda, Pietro, Vision, Natasha, and Sam if Steve calls him. Thor’s taking off back to Asgard and Bruce left in the middle of the night without a word. Without a trace, there’s no J.A.R.V.I.S. to monitor him anymore. Clint’s retired, officially. And Tony?

“Look, I’m here if you need new equipment. If you need information. But… But it’s time I spend some time on me. I guess…” He swallows, trying to force the uncomfortable truth past his walls. “I can’t keep waiting for people to need me. I have to start needing myself.”

Steve touches his shoulder, squeezes for a moment before giving in, pulling him close in a hug. “You’re always an Avenger, Tony. You’re always on our team.”

He hugs back, breathes him in and enjoys it for a moment. When Steve lets go, Tony walks around him, getting into the car and waving.

“Try not to die laying down on a wire without me around to cut it, Rogers.”

Steve snorts, waving him off. “Don’t be a stranger, Tony.”

Back to Manhattan, back to the tower that’s become home again. The place that he can be alone.

“Oh, god,” Tony whispers as he pulls up to the garage, noting the air of panic. “I forgot to tell Happy about the F.R.I.D.A.Y. protocol.” J.A.R.V.I.S. probably pinged him, but who knows if the man understood it.

Tony makes it through assuring his head of security that everything is okay, that they’re upgrading to F.R.I.D.A.Y. in all areas instead of J.A.R.V.I.S. That Pepper and Rhodey know. He proves his identity (“Why is my clearance phrase the entire chorus of _Highway to Hell_? Let’s change that.” “You need to say the security phrase again to change it, Tony.” “You know what, keep it.”) and assures Happy that everything is fine, he’ll send out a personal memo, before finally escaping up to the penthouse.

He leans on the elevator, closing his eyes and sighing. “So, F.R.I.D.A.Y., is it?”

_“Hello, boss. Welcome back.”_

He starts, a little thrown by the voice. Right, he’d programmed her after… he’s drawing a blank on the inspiration, but it doesn’t particularly matter. “How’d the transition go for long term takeover? Anything drastic I need to look into?”

There’s a moment of quiet, before F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s smooth Irish voice comes again. _“Everything seems to be running normally. I’ve taken the liberty of uploading myself into your armor, as well.”_

“Clever girl.” Tony steps forward as the elevator doors glide open, pulling out his phone. “I’m going to--” He freezes three steps into the penthouse, looking at the two figures on the couch. His knees are shaking before he even realizes it, breath catching in his throat.

Pepper reaches him first, Rhodey one step behind, the two of them enfolding him in their arms. They shuffle him back to the couch and he sits between them, breathing in shaky, uneven jerks of his shoulders.

Every plan he had for the day, every piece of tinkering and burying himself in his work to not have to think, dissolves with those arms around him. Those familiar, comforting scents. Tony turns his ring on his finger, glances to either side and spots the rings that they still wear. “God,” he breathes out, swallowing emotion, “I missed you two.”

They hold him, quiet and secure, and he finally lets the dam break.

* * *

Tony sleeps better that night than he has in (weeks? months?) too long, curled secure with Pepper at his front and Rhodey at his back. Nothing comes to murder them in real life or in his dreams, and he wakes up lazily to late morning sunshine and Rhodey singing in the kitchen.

When’s the last time he was the last one out of bed?

He shuffles in to join his bondmates, taking the coffee Pepper hands over with a grateful little smile, sipping the warm drink as he settles onto a stool at the counter. Rhodey’s flipping pancakes and singing and his heart clenches with the desire for every morning to be like this.

“We could have a kid,” Tony says, wincing and regretting the words as Pepper coughs on her tea and Rhodey’s pancake splats over the edge of the griddle instead of landing neatly in the center. “I just--if we had a kid, I mean--we could adopt or--or there’s surrogacy programs. It would…” Their eyes are on him and Tony shrinks, rubbing the back of his neck. “It would give us a reason to be all together…”

Pepper settles her hand over his before he can start fidgeting with his coffee mug, her eyes gentle and kind. “Tony…” He melts into her touch, just a little, the back of his neck throbbing pleasantly with the tenderness of his Alpha. “We’re all together already.”

He pushes Clint’s words out of his head, forces a smile to match hers. “Yeah, just… sometimes…” He has to stop, to breathe, to fight for the words to leave his throat. “Sometimes it feels like we’re too busy for each other.”

Rhodey snaps the griddle off and comes around the counter, wraps his arms around both of their shoulders. “Busy, yeah, but not too busy for each other. We’re just a phone call away, Tony.” He presses a kiss to Tony’s temple, then Pepper’s, squeezing both of them gently.

They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t love him… but something cold still sinks inside him. He just had to go and ruin the morning. Tony shrugs off their hands, taking a long drink from his coffee cup, draining the mug. He closes his eyes, but that’s worse--what if they’re gone when he opens them? Pushing out a breath, he puts on a more genuine smile. “I say dumb stuff before coffee. Don’t hold it against me.”

That soft look doesn’t leave Pepper’s eyes, but she kisses him anyways. “So what’s your excuse the rest of the time?” Her lips curve into a little teasing smirk, her fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead.

Tony scoffs in mock offense, reaching across the counter and grabbing a pancake off the stack. He rolls it up and shoves it in his mouth rather than answer. After a moment of chewing and swallowing, his eyes track across the room. “I’m gonna head down to the lab.” He glances at them, Rhodey back to flipping pancakes and Pepper back to sipping tea and scrolling on her tablet. “You two aren’t leaving right away, right?”

“We’ll be here when you come up from the lab, Tony. Promise.” Rhodey gives him a grin and a wink, passing over a small stack of pancakes on a plate. “Take those with you so you don’t forget to eat. And J.A.R.--F.R.I.D.A.Y., make sure he drinks at least as much water as coffee down there.”

_“Sure thing, Colonel.”_

Tony gives each of them a wet kiss on the cheek, dutifully taking his pancakes into the elevator with him. He eats another one on the ride down to the lab, savoring the sweet, fluffy breakfast more now. 

Leaving the stack on the corner of a workstation, Tony settles onto a stool and rolls himself in front of one of the monitors. “Okay, let’s see…” He cracks his knuckles, pulling up the hologrid and starting a new project. Pietro and Wanda are going to need equipment, he can synchronize with the lab at the upstate facility for manufacturing.

There’s a notification blinking at the corner of the grid and he swipes it away impatiently, only for it to come back a moment later. Tony makes a face, his concentration cracking. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., clear that alert. Looks like a system glitch.”

It disappears for a moment, only to show up again. _“Sorry, boss,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. says, the notification bouncing there-gone-there in his peripheral vision. _“I can’t seem to clear it.”_

“Scan it?”

The little red exclamation point flashes blue for a moment, before F.R.I.D.A.Y. comes back. _“I can’t access it. It’s locked behind something called the One Way Trip Protocol.”_

One Way Trip. Tony swallows, stepping back until he finds his stool again, dropping into it. “Save progress and close the hologrid. Move notification to my screen.” He reaches up, touching the notification gently, his voice choked in his throat. “Save the rest for the turn, J.”

It opens an audio file, the waveform on the screen flat for a moment before it begins to move as J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice fills the room. _“Hello, sir. I’ve taken the liberty of running the simulation at one hundred percent and I’m quite certain of its success. What’s less certain is the outcome. Perhaps things will be fine, but there is a chance they could be… drastically different.”_

An AI doesn’t need to breath, but Tony swears J.A.R.V.I.S. pauses for breath anyways. _“There are a few things that need to be taken care of before I attempt this, and I found it best to be somewhat sneaky about these matters and do them while you are asleep. Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes have been informed of my downtime and the temporary initiation of the F.R.I.D.A.Y. protocol, as have the security teams at all facilities where I am installed. In the event that I cannot come back online, F.R.I.D.A.Y. has full authorization to take over. She’s ready for this, sir, you programmed her to be._

_“The second measure that will take effect if I do not come back is the posting of this file to your lab in Manhattan. I have a feeling you’ll be going back there soon, which prompts the third protocol I’ve activated._

_“Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes will receive messages that it is urgent and imperative they return to Manhattan and await you. Please, sir, talk to them while they’re with you. They need you as much as you need them, and all three of you need to hear it from each other.”_

“J.A.R.V.I.S. you little minx…”

 _“I’ve left you one last thing, sir, a side project we’ve been working on. I hope it’s satisfactory.”_ The screen changes, pulling up the profile of a teenaged boy, and Tony skims it.

Peter Parker, freshman at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Home address in Queens.

Most likely candidate for the mysterious masked hero that has been running around New York City since spring.

The waveform returns, J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice filling the room again. For the last time. _“Please, sir, trust in those around you. They love you very much and want to see you happy. And remember, sir, I am always with you.”_

It blinks away, the message gone, replaced only with a file on Peter Parker. Tony sits in the silence, breathing uneven, before he buries his face in his arms.

He doesn’t cry, not exactly, but it’s a damn near thing.


	8. (Tested Again And Again) Every Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's update comes a little early because I got called in for an extra shift whoops.

All in all, not a lot changes.

Peter’s distinctly more careful with his superhero-ing, but he has his mask and it’s not like anyone is going to be able to trace the webbing back to his chemistry lab experiments. Who would even suspect a high schooler?

Aunt May has a heated debate with herself over several dinners on whether or not they should move, but ultimately, once they get the apartment fixed up, she decides it’s not worth the hassle. Peter’s rather glad for that; he likes being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman here, doesn’t want to try to establish himself somewhere else. Plus it’d be hell to explain why to anyone not in the know.

Things really seem to be going well.

Until the day he comes home to find Tony Stark in his living room.

Peter goes still and tense in the door, slowly, carefully closing it behind him. For half a second, seeing the stranger in his house overlays something horrible in his mind, his aunt tied up and helpless, at the mercy of another psychopath. He blinks and May’s sitting on the couch, a little nervous but definitely not in danger, looking at him expectantly.

“Um, hi?” Peter manages, his voice pitching up slightly in confusion. “You’re…”

“Tony Stark, Iron Man, the greatest hero you’ve ever met?” Mr. Stark offers, giving May a smile as he stands from the couch.

“In my living room,” Peter supplies, blinking between May and Mr. Stark. “Why are you in my living room?”

“See, funny story, that.” Mr. Stark pulls a phone from his pocket, flipping it so the video projects outward and plays. Peter, swinging through the streets of New York. “I had this whole plan, you know, pretend like you won some internship position or something and I was here to personally congratulate you--ridiculous, when you think about it.” He turns the phone and another video plays, Peter stopping a car from slamming into a parked bus. “Nice catch, 3000 pounds, 40 miles an hour. That’s not easy.” He puts the phone away, eyes scanning Peter for a moment. “You don’t look like much, but you’re something special. Your aunt knows it, too. Probably why she slammed the door in my face and said you weren’t going to become an Avenger when I came knocking. Which wasn’t the plan, but--”

“Uh, Mr. Stark--”

“Ah, ah,” Mr. Stark holds up a hand. “Still my turn. So,your aunt knows you’re… Spiderling? Spider-Guy?”

“Spiderman…”

“Anyone else know?”

Peter’s mind flashes to Ned, but he shakes his head quickly. “No…”

Mr. Stark tilts his head to the side, before he lets it drop. “It’s dangerous, putting your name and your face out there. Inviting challenge. I should know, it’s how my house in Malibu got blown up by a crazy--anyways. You’re pretty good at covering your tracks, but I found you. And if I did, how hard is it for someone else to?”

His mind flashes to Dr. Hibana, his eyes darting to May. She’s biting her lip, looking at him helplessly. Mr. Stark is still talking, but Peter can’t hear him, white noise behind the message in his aunt’s eyes. She’s already made a decision. His gaze flicks to the window, the glass pane they’d had to replace after--after. How easy had it been for Mr. Stark to find him? He was a billionaire, and a genius, and _Iron Man_ , surely that must all have made it easy. Easier than it could be for a thwarted mugger or would-be robber.

Easier than the hot dog vendor who’d chased him down and returned his wallet to him after he’d dropped it. His student ID from Midtown was in his wallet, a picture of his face, his home address… His emergency contact information giving the wrong person everything they’d need to hurt Aunt May again.

His aunt has been there for him through everything, since he was too young to remember. He’s been there for her through everything. He can’t imagine life without her… can’t imagine losing her.

Peter takes a breath, turning to Mr. Stark. “Would she be safe?”

“Absolutely. Guarded, though it won’t feel like anyone’s hovering. We’d set her up with a new identity in a new place, erase all traces of who she was. S.H.I.E.L.D. might not exist anymore, but some people with the power to make it happen owe me favors.”

“And what happens here? I can’t just disappear, that’s more suspicious. I’m still in high school.”

Mr. Stark waves a hand dismissively. “It’s not like I’m going to send you to an orphanage, kid. You’re smart, smart enough to make that webbing in a high school chemistry lab. It’s reasonable that I’d take some young, lost Omega under my wing as an intern. Let him finish high school, but provide room and board and a hands on learning opportunity.”

“It’s still suspicious.”

“Not like your aunt’s going to become an unperson the same day you get hired. Welcome to Stark Industries, we’ll work out the details later. Give you two time before you have to say goodbye.” Mr. Stark holds up a finger. “If we’re all in agreement, of course. I’m not pushing this on you, kid. If this is a no, we can look into other options. This one might just be the… best case scenario for everyone. I say that because it’s my idea.”

Peter looks at May again, swallowing hard. She nods, slightly, her eyes still on him. Slowly, he turns back to Mr. Stark.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

* * *

It’s hard to enjoy his summer with _that_ hanging over his head. Peter tries, though; he goes to school on the last day with the thrilling news that he got a summer internship at Stark Industries. Ned raises a skeptical eyebrow but Peter waves him off. He’s always looked up to Tony Stark, of course he applied for a summer internship, he’s _sure_ he mentioned it at least once.

“And on Friday we agreed to spend the summer working on the Lego Star Wars sets. The Death Star ships from Amazon in August, I wanna have everything else done so we can start on that as soon as it gets here.”

Peter winces, dumping a handful of loose papers from his locker into his backpack. “I know, but this--this is really important, Ned. An internship could mean a job one day and Stark pays really well. I gotta think about Aunt May, not just myself.” The disappointed noise dies in Ned’s throat as Peter shuts his locker and faces him again, putting on a smile. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be at work 24/7. I’ll be home on the weekends, we can work on it then.”

Thank god Ned understands discretion. His eyes are serious on Peter, a clear question in them-- _are you an Avenger now?_ \--but he doesn’t voice it. Not in front of the rest of the school, anyways. “So is he going to train you to be the next Iron Man or something?”

Had he thought Ned was good at discretion? _Ned_? Peter groans, shouldering his heaping backpack. “Do you really think there’s such a thing as a ‘next’ Iron Man? And come on, even if there is, why would he pick me?” He gives his friend a serious, raised-eyebrows look, heading towards the front doors of the school. They still have a week of exams, but classes are done for the year.

“I dunno, because you’re…” Ned flicks his wrist, making a little _thwip_ noise between pursed lips. “Y’know.”

Quick as he can, Peter shoves Ned’s wrist down. “ _Not here_.” He glances around, though no one seems to be paying attention. “And that’s… different. Trust me, this internship has nothing to do with any of that. You and Aunt May are the only ones who know--”

“Isn’t holding hands for the walk home a little grade school, boys?” A new voice cuts in and Peter and Ned jerk apart, turning to stare. He recognizes her, though it takes an extra second to place her. Michelle. She’s in some of his classes.

“Uh, hey,” Ned offers before the silence can get too long and awkward. “What’s up?”

“Need to steal Parker for a minute. Mr. Harrington wants a meeting about the academic decathlon team next year, and sent me to get our newest member.”

Peter must look particularly blank and desperate, because Ned speaks up before he can try to get out of this. He’s got access to Stark labs now, he doesn’t need the chemistry class to manufacture his webbing, but he can’t think of how to get out of this promise. “I’ll come with,” Ned offers, cheery. “I was thinking about joining the team.”

“You were?” Peter squeaks out, at the same time that Michelle raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yeah, sure, I was! I’m… good at stuff… Is it mostly math?”

Michelle shakes her head. “Whatever. The more the merrier, or something. Come on, dorks.”

Well, there’s no getting out of it now. He’s sure Mr. Stark will understand when school starts up again. Or find a way to sneak him out of the responsibility. Or something.

* * *

The summer skates by too fast. Mr. Stark has him actually working, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but well, there he is. Down in the labs, learning way more complex stuff than any of his teachers would probably even understand. He trails after different people, getting a feel for almost every area of the business, at least on the design side. Mr. Stark invites Peter up to his personal lab about once a week, helps him design new suit features and test them out. He’s not going to be running around in sweatpants and swim goggles pretty soon.

Weekdays at Stark Industries are great.

Weekends at home are… harder.

The time for May to go comes too soon, even if they wheedle it to be pushed back twice. She can’t bring much of anything with her, they have to make it look like a disappearance after all. Peter gives her a hug, refuses to let go as she stands there with her suitcase. It’s not that he can’t visit her, but until they know it’s safe to do so… until then, this is goodbye.

“I love you, Aunt May,” he whispers, holding her just a fraction tighter.

She squeezes him close, kissing the top of his head gently. “Love you, too, Peter. Everything will be okay.”

He lets go reluctantly, watches as she’s escorted from the apartment. She’s safe, he has to keep reminding himself. This is for her safety, for her protection.

He won’t let another incident like Dr. Hibana happen.

_If you don’t help people when you have the means to, it makes you part of the problem._

Uncle Ben had told him that, when he was young. Peter can barely remember why they were out of the city, in Uncle Ben’s clunky old car, but it had been snowing hard and they’d both just wanted to be home where it was warm. There had been a car on the side of the road, its lights blinking, a man and a woman bundled up next to it. Uncle Ben had pulled over, had offered them assistance, a ride, money. Even though they didn’t have it to spare.

The couple were going in the opposite direction and snowstorm or not, Uncle Ben had driven them back to town where they could get a tow truck. Aunt May had been a wreck by the time he and Peter had finally gotten home, but Uncle Ben had calmed her down, explained what caused such a delay.

Peter asked him, warm and sleepy in bed, why they’d stopped, why they’d taken the couple to town when it just made Aunt May worry. There were other cars on the road, other people could have helped instead of them.

“They needed help. No one else had stopped so far. Maybe no one else would have, and something bad would have happened.” He’d kissed Peter’s forehead, tucked him in tighter. “If you don’t help people when you have the means to, it makes you part of the problem. Your father taught me that.”

Peter wraps himself up in his blanket that night, alone in the apartment, trying not to hear every creak and scrape of the building and the others who live there.

He has the means to help keep Aunt May safe. It’s what Uncle Ben would want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Jerry the honest hot dog vendor, who for some inexplicable reason is highlighted in my notes.


	9. Don't Mind Me (I'm Just A Son Of A Gun)

_“Boss,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. says, the monitor popping up as soon as Tony looks up. News coverage, a building explosion in Lagos, Nigeria.

The bottom line is what she draws his attention to, however.

_Mercenary Crossbones, Formerly Known As S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Brock Rumlow, Suspected As Perpetrator of Attack on I.F.I.D._

“Shit.”

Tony shoves back from his desk, already one step towards the door before it gets worse.

“We’re just getting in footage of the source of the explosion now, please be advised that it is graphic,” the newscaster says, before a video begins playing.

Shaky hand camera work, probably a cell phone. A man squaring off with an auburn haired woman in the middle of a crowded market. He wraps one hand around something--detonator--and speaks, incomprehensible under the rising screams.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., isolate that--”

_“Already on it, boss.”_

The explosion doesn’t take out the crowd in the market, which is good. It’s enveloped in red energy instead, sent up into the sky. More screaming near the camera, a frantic turn to follow it, and they see the fireball blow next to the building.

_“He seems to be saying ‘you’ll burn with me, witch’.”_

The camera pans back down as people begin to panic, and there’s no question who’s in frame now. Wanda Maximoff stands helpless, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. Half a second later, Steve runs into the frame before the footage cuts off.

“It seems that a conflict between a militant mercenary group and the Avengers is behind the explosion in Lagos, which killed at least twenty people and wounded dozens, if not hundreds more. We’ll keep you updated as details become available. At this time there has been no official statement from--”

He cuts the feed off, dropping back to the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “ _Shit_.”

* * *

To say it’s not good is an understatement. Tony manages to get in touch with Natasha as soon as they’re stateside, get the details from her. Rumlow and his group had attacked the I.F.I.D., stolen a biological weapon, then dispersed into a crowded market, turned the whole thing into a shell game. She and Sam had taken down three of the five, secured the bioweapon, and had been on their way to rendezvous.

Steve had been facing off with Rumlow, they’d lost track of Wanda. Not the best situation, especially with her lack of field experience, and what they’d all noticed too late was the suicide bomb vests the team were wearing.

“They’re already calling senate hearings and UN council meetings about this. Won’t surprise me if someone from the military comes down and reads you all the riot act.”

“Wanda’s secured at an undisclosed location for her own safety. And sanity. We’re just waiting to see how hard the hammer comes down.” Natasha sighs over the conference call, her attention darting over her shoulder for a moment. “Even with your lawyers backing her up, it’s pretty bad. And I’ve seen more than a few news stations starting in on the whole ‘enhanced human’ angle. It’s 2012 all over again.”

“Except this time we didn’t stop the nuke. It’s funny, how everyone remembers the aliens blowing up Times Square but not the W.S.C. trying to nuke lower Manhattan.” Tony makes a face, looking up towards the ceiling. At least he’s slowly stopped having as many nightmares about that. “Keep me updated, Nat. I can head to the upstate facility if you need me to.”

“We should be able to handle it. You’re an active duty noncombatant, right?”

A snorted laugh takes some of the tension off his shoulders, at least. Tony stands up, stretching and checking the time. Peter’s due back soon, he should head upstairs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me if anything changes.”

He leans against the back wall of the elevator, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment. Stricter regulations on enhanced individuals, no doubt that’s what they’re going to push for. And he can see the reasoning behind it, to a degree. Except… Except Peter’s enhanced and stricter regulations will no doubt impact him.

The kid isn’t his, biologically, but he still has a responsibility there. He promised May Parker that he’d take care of Peter, help him grow up right, before secreting her away to the middle of nowhere. And so far, he’s done a decent job in his own opinion. The summer trial period went well and now that school’s started up again, it sort of feels like they’re an actual family.

Well, except that he hasn’t told Pepper or Rhodey about the kid. That isn’t his fault, though, they just haven’t been by the tower since Peter moved in full time.

Tony pours himself a drink, dropping onto the couch and lifting his tablet. According to his news feed, he’s still making money because Pepper is brilliant. Rhodey’s supposed to give a comment at a press conference soon. Multiple nations are calling for closed borders to Avengers intervention.

What a great day.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., anything fun happening at the Upstate facility?”

 _“Depends on your definition of fun, boss.”_ She pulls up a handful of security feeds from the compound for him, and Tony quickly isolates two of them, pushing aside the rest--including the rather interesting tryst apparently happening in a janitor’s closet.

The first feed is the detention levels, an unconscious body splayed out on one of the beds. Wearing remnants of tactical gear, no shoes, presumably no weapons. He’s facing away from the camera, but Tony squints and frowns. “Is that Rumlow?”

 _“Facial recognition can’t place him. He was brought in on the jet from Lagos.”_ Of course facial recognition can’t place him, those scars would make any existing record pointless. _“The rest of the identified I.F.I.D. attackers are accounted for, however, so a logical conclusion would be that the Avengers have captured Agent Rumlow alive.”_

Tony nods, flipping away the camera feed. “Keep him company, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He brings the other image up on full screen, a still from the security camera in the common room. “Who’s this?”

_“Unknown subject, did not trigger an alarm. The Avenger quarters are under the privacy protocol, this is the only footage I have. Appears to be going to Captain Rogers’ quarters.”_

“Interesting… Bypass privacy protocols for Avenger common areas, let’s see if we can get a better image of our mystery guest.”

That mystery is put on pause as Peter comes in, swinging onto the balcony and walking through the wide glass doors inside as he pulls his mask off. Tony tilts his head back over the couch, grinning. “Fun day at school?”

“Yeah…” The least enthused he’s ever heard the kid. He should probably poke that soon.

Soon, not immediately. “How’s the new suit?”

 _That_ gets Peter to light up, his words coming a mile a minute. “It’s _so_ great, Mr. Stark, and did you know it _talks_ to me--well, of course you did, you made it--and check this out.” He jumps, does a quick backflip, and lands, one leg bent up underneath him and the other stretched out. Peter points to his crotch, grinning. “It stretches but doesn’t get tight and it’s not gonna rip--”

“Kid, I’d rather not stare at your junk, even if it is _very_ well-contained.”

“Oh, right, sorry, Mr. Stark, it just--it’s perfect.” Peter stands up again, pressing the mask against his face briefly. “And I’m being weird about it, huh?”

Tony takes pity, crossing the room and clapping him on the shoulder. “You are being weird. But it’s fine. I’ve had enough people tell me I’m being weird for things I’m excited about, I get it. Hell, if it hadn’t been… blown up by a missile, I’d show you the video of my Mark 42 autonomous prehensile propulsion test. I danced to _Jingle Bells_.”

“ _Jingle Bells_?” Peter repeats, snorting a quick laugh. He ducks out from under Tony’s hand, going to the kitchen to get himself a drink. “Really?”

“A cool version! And I hadn’t slept for like forty-eight hours.”

 _“Seventy-two, according to my records,”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. cuts in. _“And boss, General Ross is attempting to contact you.”_

“Put him on hold, F.R.I.D.A.Y. He knows I like to watch the light blink.”

“General Ross?” Peter frowns, taking a drink of milk. “Isn’t he the one that--”

“Probably,” Tony cuts him off, shaking his head. “He’s got a history with Banner. And after New York, he got assigned as the Avengers’ government baby-sitter. We dodged him as much as possible, mostly thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D. covering our asses and me pinky promising not to do any heroing without asking.” He lowers his voice, winking conspiratorially. “I lied. Anyways, he’s been riding us about the way we save the day for years.”

“So what’s he want this time?”

“Probably wants to know when the last time Cap took a Super Soldier Sized--”

_“General Ross is proceeding to the elevator, boss.”_

“ _Shit_. Sorry, kid, conversation over. Go do homework or reinvigorate the Clean Energy Initiative or whatever it is kids do after school these days. Time for me to be a grown up.”

* * *

He doesn’t know where Wanda is, just that she’s secured, which is less than helpful. He _does_ know that the rest of the Avengers have headed back to the Upstate facility to decompress and debrief. Tony supposes that he could mention the mystery guest they brought along to Ross, but until he knows who that is, he’ll keep it to himself. For that matter, Ross doesn’t need to know that they’re holding a prisoner who orchestrated the whole attack. Not yet.

The best he really has to offer is that Maria Hill has set them up with a humanitarian aid program and they’ve already donated a massive amount to local relief efforts. He has the emails to prove that.

“We’re not trying to destroy the world, Ross, we’re trying to save it.”

“The world doesn’t see it this way, Tony. What they see is a handful of people with powers they can’t control, doing what they want, where they want. Nigeria didn’t invite you in, the I.F.I.D. didn’t invite you in, and thanks to your presence the terrorists had bomb vests on.”

“They would have had those vests on if we were there or not,” Tony argues, raking a hand through his hair. “And it’s not _we_ , I wasn’t involved in this one.”

“As long as your Alpha’s company is funding them, you’re involved.”

Tony bristles at that, his hands going tense, his spine straightening. He signed the company over to Pepper because she’s a more competent businessperson than he’ll ever be, it has _nothing_ to do with her being his Alpha, and Ross throwing that at him is just looking--

Looking for a fight. Looking for Tony to lose his temper. To prove that he, and by extension the rest of the Avengers, need to be contained. Restrained. Controlled. 

Slowly, forcing himself to relax, Tony exhales. He pushes back from the table, standing up and picking up his tablet. “In that case, I should refer you to my legal team. They’ll answer questions on my behalf.” He grits his teeth, unable to keep the jab to himself. “Stark Industries doesn’t finance them, that’s all out of my own pocket.”

Tony didn’t raise to the bait, neither does Ross. He looks ready to, ready to point out that Tony’s personal millions are inheritance from his father, but the general drops it. “This isn’t over, Stark. Not by a long way. Your team is out of control and someone has to reign you in.”

“Good luck with that,” Tony mutters, beating a hasty escape, hoping it doesn’t look like a retreat. 

There’s no way the team will agree to any sort of restrictions. He can’t picture them saying yes to government oversight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And unfortunately, this is about as far as I got in this story before my motivation fled the oncoming winter. Updates will only be going to "(May Nothing But) Death Do Us Part" from now on.
> 
> Wait, I lied, I wrote one line in chapter 10. Here it is, a special sneak peek for those that read the author notes:
>
>> Steve’s being stubborn again.


End file.
